Where Immortals Once Walked-Chapter 437: Step Out and Die

At worst, Huyan Zhao had thought that he would wake the next morning and then start holding people accountable. That was what he had been thinking right up until he gathered those two beauties into his arms.

Who could have imagined that with one careless lapse, the enemy would already be at his gates?

How could it have come to this? How could they not stop them?

The city gates had been repaired and reinforced for more than a decade, so how had they become so laughably fragile in front of the Panlong army?

“Seal the palace gates! Where are my generals?!”

The State of West Ji tried to rally, but it could not organize any effective resistance. By daybreak, two generals were already dead in battle, two more had been captured, and the rest, who saw the writing on the wall, led their troops back to the royal palace, as well as the inner city, and slammed the gates shut.

With the outer city already breached, holding the inner city and waiting for reinforcements was still, in theory, a workable plan. The palace gates were even stronger than the outer gates, layered with more defensive arrays. And because the area was smaller, manpower could be concentrated, making it easier to defend.

Not to mention that the palace had plenty of provisions stockpiled.

And yet, even when the sun rose in the east, no reinforcements came.

Aren’t there garrison forces stationed in the western suburbs and the southern river valley? Where are they? Why haven’t they come to lift the siege?

If they arrived, we could strike from inside with the royal army and force back these Panlong troops who’d come from so far away!

No matter how furiously Huyan Zhao raged, no one beside him had an answer.

He climbed up to the palace gatehouse with painstaking caution and looked down from the height only to see that the fighting in the outer city had dwindled to scattered clashes. Panlong City’s main force had finished assembling and now pressed right up beneath the palace gates.

Most of those soldiers were smeared with blood, but when they looked up, their eyes were hungry as starving wolves, so hungry it chilled the West Ji men on the walls.

For a rare moment, silence settled between the forces on either side of the palace gate.

A West Ji general stepped forward and bellowed, “Who’s in charge? Come out and speak!”

Below, the ranks parted soundlessly, making a path. One rider advanced.

Clop, clop, clop.

The rhythm of the hooves felt like it was stamping on everyone’s heart.

The rider wore red armor and a crimson oni[1] mask. She raised her head to the wall. Standing behind the general, Huyan Zhao had the distinct feeling that the oni-masked rider’s gaze passed straight through the man in front and landed directly on him.

The general could not afford to lose momentum. “State your name!”

In every West Ji soldier’s mind, a cold, flat voice seemed to answer: “Panlong City, Red General.”

It did not sound like the way a human spoke. The general choked for breath. “You’re a monster?”

The Red General did not bother arguing with him. Instead, she spoke straight to the new king.

“Huyan Zhao, the garrison camps at the south gate and in the western suburbs have already been destroyed by my detached forces. The reinforcements you’re waiting for will not come.”

General Nanke and the others had split off across the plains to accomplish exactly that.

In recent years, the surrounding small states had all heard rumors that a new general had risen in the Panlong Wasteland, one that was unstoppable in battle and cold in method. The moment West Ji heard that it was her, everyone’s heart sank.

And now that she said the reinforcements were wiped out, and that the palace city[2] was isolated, the men exchanged stricken looks, fear spreading like damp.

Huyan Zhao flew into a rage. He shoved past the general’s attempt to stop him and laughed loudly. “Two lines of monster nonsense, and you think you can shake my army’s morale? The Red General is nothing special after all!”

The Red General continued as if he had not spoken, “Surrender now, and I won’t harm you. Resist to the bitter end, and the inner city will be littered with corpses.”

“Red General, West Ji has no grievance with Panlong City! How dare you launch a sneak attack!” No honor at all!

“You’re in my way.”

Huyan Zhao blinked. “What?”

The Red General explained with infuriating patience, “We want to return to West Luo. You’re blocking the way.”

Listening from the rear ranks, He Lingchuan could not help finding it a little absurd.

Panlong City and West Ji have deep old grudges, yet the Red General deliberately chose the most irrelevant reason possible. Is she trying to anger Huyan Zhao to death?

“Y-you...” Huyan Zhao was so furious that he could not speak for a moment. Panlong City is going to annihilate West Ji over something this ridiculous? After a long pause, he finally forced out, “Do you not know how to request passage?!”

The Red General refused to waste more words on him. “Surrender, or wait for death?” Then she added, “If you surrender the city, you can still live peacefully on West Ji soil. Commander Zhong, on behalf of our monarch, permits you to hold the title of marquis south of the Kui River.”

A river called the Kui ran through central and southern West Ji. If it became the boundary, then the land south of it, which was roughly a third of the state, would remain. Zhong Shengguang’s meaning was clear. If Huyan Zhao surrendered immediately, then he could keep his life and retain a third of his territory as a marquis, though he would lose the throne.

The offer made Huyan Zhao laugh in sheer outrage. “How generous of Panlong City to grant me a marquisate on my own land!”

The Red General did not argue. “In three days, I’ll ask again. By then, the promised land will only be south of Mount Shao.”

The land south of Mount Shao was only a third of the land south of the Kui River.

Huyan Zhao’s face turned red with rage, and he then barked to his men, “Shoot her! Loose arrows! Now!”

The general gave the order. A dense rain of arrows poured down from the walls.

The troops below were prepared, raising shields in response.

Most of West Ji’s arrows were aimed at her; everyone wanted to kill her, to take her head. Watching the sky go dark with shafts from the rear, He Lingchuan felt his palms sweat for the Red General.

In a large-scale war, an individual’s room to act was limited.

And yet the Red General did not dodge. She did not even lift her spear.

The arrows had all been aimed at her, but for reasons no one could explain, every single one veered off.

Thup, thup, thup!

They stabbed into the ground so densely it looked like a hive of angry wasps. It was spectacular to behold, but the closest shaft still landed nearly a meter away from her.

The general’s eyes shifted. He seized a great bow himself. “Again!”

Another rain of arrows came down on the Red General. The West Ji general’s own shot was mixed in, and he fired two in rapid succession, one after the other.

He suspected the Red General was using some sort of illusion spell, or a secret spell that bent light, making arrows aimed at her miss their mark.

The purpose of his two shots was to measure the deviation, how far the arrows were being “pushed” off target.

Of course, the Panlong army would not just stand there and be shot. They fired back.

However, shooting upward was naturally disadvantaged, and the defenders were tucked behind crenellations.

The Red General was not in a hurry. She turned her horse and cantered back through her own lines.

Her order was simple. The army was to surround the palace and grind them down. The moment anyone stepped out, they were killed.

Up on the wall, the general loosed two more arrows. They were still off, but now he had calculated his angle. He began to draw again.

And in the short moment when the enemy general began drawing his bow, the Red General casually plucked a feathered arrow from a soldier’s shield beside her. She twisted at the waist on horseback and hurled it backward like lightning.

The arrow moved so fast that it was almost invisible, and it made no sound at all until it struck.

It punched straight into the general’s right eye.

It flew in, then burst, splattering a flower of blood.

Only then did the people beside him hear the faint sound of air being cut.

Huyan Zhao stumbled back three full steps, no longer daring to approach the wall.

That general of ours is said to have enough strength to tear tigers and leopards apart, so how did this oni-masked rider casually blow out his eye with a thrown arrow?

He didn’t even use a bow![3]

The Red General dusted off her hands and commanded, “Don’t let a single one come out.”

Leaving the West Ji king glaring from the gatehouse, she went to redeploy troops and continue hunting down the scattered enemy forces still inside the city.

The Panlong army’s assault had been rushed. Though it struck like thunder, the victory it achieved was rough-edged and messy. Now she needed to redraw the grid, tighten it, methodically eliminating stragglers, hidden pockets, and hostile forces in the shadows.

She also dispatched men to seize critical sites such as granaries, armories, horse ranches, and anything that held supplies.

At the same time, she ordered proclamations posted to pacify the populace, drawing a strict line between commoners and officials or soldiers, and implementing military rationing across the city.

Huyan Zhao and his court had been forced to seal the palace gates early in the morning, but fighting in West Ji’s capital continued all the way until the next evening. Many scattered West Ji units had been cut off in the chaos and never made it back to the palace. Instead, they regrouped inside the city in small, fragmented pockets, resisting through alley skirmishes and guerrilla tactics.

They all wanted to link up and rush to defend the king.

The Red General’s elite Gale Army, which included He Lingchuan, clung to them like a wolf pack, refusing to let them slip away.

Only now did it become clear just how flexible the Red General’s tactics were, and how often she seemed to anticipate the enemy’s moves. The traps she laid were the kind that made opponents rush forward to step right into them.

For He Lingchuan, this kind of urban fighting was a new experience as well. Narrow alleys, sudden clashes, close-quarters killing, everything tested both skill and luck. You never knew where an enemy would pop out from or what dirty trick they would use to ambush you.

He Lingchuan saw one Gale Army soldier make a single misstep and get blasted high into the air. Before the body even hit the ground, you could already see that his upper torso had been separated cleanly from his waist and legs.

The man belonged to Meng Shan’s squad.

Meng Shan saw it and roared. Like a charging bull, he slammed into a packed-earth wall nearly two-thirds of a meter thick and knocked it down outright. The enemy behind it had no time to flee. Meng Shan snapped one man’s neck with his bare hands, then grabbed another, swung him by the leg, and smashed him into a pillar three times until his brains burst out.

Red and white spattered across Meng Shan’s face. He could not even be bothered to wipe it away. When he turned his head, he happened to spot He Lingchuan standing several meters away and immediately yelled, “Thirty-three and thirty-five!”

“Where’s thirty-four? Did you eat him?” He Lingchuan grinned at him. Is this guy genuinely unable to count? “Also, I’ve already taken out thirty-nine!”

His methods were not as brutal as Meng Shan’s, but they were efficient. His enemies were rendered incapable of fighting.

With that, He Lingchuan turned and walked off, leaving Meng Shan stomping and shouting at his squad, “What are you standing around for?! Drag these gutless rats out and finish them!”

At that moment, several figures emerged from behind an archway, hands raised. “Don’t kill us, don’t kill us! We surrender!”

“One, two, three, four!” Meng Shan whooped in delight and asked his squad member, “If four surrendered, how many have we taken total?”

“Thirty-eight,” the squad member said carefully. “Still one short of the Broken Blade Squad.”

“Huh?”

Meng Shan’s smile sank like a stone.

He Lingchuan hopped over rubble and saw Meng Shan’s squad member lying on the ground, grievously wounded.

Everything below the waist was gone, and his blood and organs spilled everywhere.

No one could save him.

But he was still alive. He struggled and extended a hand toward He Lingchuan.

He Lingchuan strode over, clasped it tightly, and said in a low voice, heavy with certainty, “I’m here. We’re all here.”

Willow and the others came over, too.

They all recognized the man. Not long ago, he had been at the Frost River Inn, raising a cup to He Lingchuan. He had mentioned that his family had upgraded their house this year, and that he had a cute little sister.

Meng Shan’s squad rushed in as well. Seeing their squadmate like this, their faces darkened.

The wounded man whispered something, faint as breath. He Lingchuan leaned close, barely catching two words:

“...Return home...”

1. This is an ogre or demon-like creature in Japanese folklore, and it probably portrays the image of what the mask looks like a bit better than just demon or ghost. ☜

2. Note that palaces typically had their own large plots of land back then, so it could be somewhat likened to a small city. Think of castles, I guess. ☜

3. Note that the author specifically used “He” here. It seems that this new king of West Ji just doesn’t think the Red General is female. ☜